


sideshows

by Maggiemaye



Series: Circus AU [1]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Circus, Anachronisms, Doctor Toby, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Palm Reading, Sexual Tension, Tarot Cards, i admit i am not sure what else to tag this at the moment, i'm sure - Freeform, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9786770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maggiemaye/pseuds/Maggiemaye
Summary: Life with a touring circus was more cutthroat than most might imagine; audiences were fickle, and shows were killed as often as they were born. In a business where livelihoods were destroyed every day, the resourceful performer had to be self-reliant. Above all, Happy constantly reminded herself, it was dangerous to form attachments. She didn’t allow goodbyes to weigh her down.





	1. a little happy in this big sad world

**Author's Note:**

> So excited to finally start posting the AU I've been playing with since fall! I've got plans for a series and stories that focus on each of the main ships, but of course the Quintis one has to come first :) Thanks a million to Caroline for her beta work and her constant efforts to keep me motivated! I hope you guys enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated! I'm @mirkwood-meriwether on Tumblr if you'd like to find me there as well.
> 
> Chapter titles for this fic come from the song "One Line Wonder" by the Avett Brothers. Their "Mignonette" album was my mood music for planning this AU and I would really recommend it for listening :)

It was amazing how valuable fifty cents became when the circus came to town. 

Fifty cents could buy hours underneath the big top, an escape from shouts of war into a blanket of much more exciting sounds. The stomping hooves of show horses, drum rolls, the booming voice of the ringmaster as he called each act into the ring. Sometimes even the roars of lions or a trumpeting elephant could be heard, in the luckiest cases. At every turn there was something new to see, some curiosity or death-defying stunt, clowns that managed to be clumsy yet amazingly coordinated. In short, fifty cents could buy a sack of popcorn and a ticket to another world.

Each night people paid their admission to be thrilled and amazed by the circus. Seasoned performers, however, quickly got used to things that took most peoples’ breath away. For misfits, freaks, lost causes, there was no better place to be. It didn’t take long for the oddities to stop being odd. 

But there was one thing that never quite sank in; each performance could easily be the last. 

It was a lesson Happy Quinn had learned from experience several times over, and yet each time it seemed fresh. Just the night before, she had been standing on her platform, performing the skills she’d spent a lifetime crafting. Her expertise was in anything to do with metal; knife throwing, lying prone on a bed of nails, the ever-popular sword swallowing. Happy could do it all. And occasionally, she allowed this to lull her into a false sense of security. After the previous night’s show, their ringmaster had gathered everyone to say that it had all been for nothing. There was no digging out of the money pit, and their train wouldn’t be touring again. Just like that; goodbye, best of luck.

Happy wandered off alone as soon as she had some daylight. The train—her shelter for the past year—was still in sight behind her, but she resolved to look back only once. Life with a touring circus was more cutthroat than most might imagine; audiences were fickle, and shows were killed as often as they were born. In a business where livelihoods were destroyed every day, the resourceful performer had to be self-reliant. Above all, Happy constantly reminded herself, it was dangerous to form attachments. She didn’t allow goodbyes to weigh her down. Not that this particular company was one she wanted to remember anyway; she was glad to leave them behind her.

There was a town up the track; she planned to stop there and determine her next move. Even as she walked, though, she couldn’t help but consider her options. Happy knew she was marketable; the “daredevil” acts were always popular, and she had long since mastered her craft. She could wait for the next show to come through, and hope they were looking to add a knife-wielder to their lineup. It didn’t seem ideal; Happy lifted her sweaty hair from her neck and sighed. She hoped everything would be clearer when she got to town.

She hadn’t gone very far, though, when she noticed an unfamiliar man hustling to catch up with her.

Happy wasn’t sure what could be drawing him to her. At first glance there was nothing about her that stood out from the other displaced acts. She carried a suitcase, but who was to know that it contained swords and knives of all sizes? But this man seemed determined to catch her.

She squinted at him, attempting to size him up. He could be nuts. He could be a murderer. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him, if it came to that, so Happy stopped to wait for the man’s approach. As he drew closer, she produced a small knife from her boot and placed the blade between bared teeth, saying nothing. It was to her advantage to have him intimidated and at close range. 

The man’s eyes widened a fraction as he drew level with her, and his first words were not what Happy expected.

“I saw your act last night,” he informed her. He seemed winded from his half-jog. After staring at him for several moments, Happy placed her knife back into her boot, making sure to maintain eye contact the entire time.

“And?” she finally demanded, confused. 

He wrinkled his brow, considering her. “I want to offer you a place on my train, if you want it.”

She had to clear her throat before speaking. It had been a while.

“You have a show.”

“You’ve heard of the O’Brien Brothers Circus, of course. I’m Walter O’Brien.” He reached out to shake her hand. Happy accepted the gesture while searching her brain for anything familiar about him.

“Should I recognize that name?”

Happy had never seen anyone look so offended. 

“Uh,” she said in response to his wounded look. “Sorry. My name’s Happy Quinn.”

He didn’t make a quip or even raise an eyebrow at her name. Happy took this as a positive sign and gave him another once over. Walter O’Brien did have a certain ringmaster quality about him, despite his drab clothing and dark hair flopping over his forehead. His eyes twitched around occasionally, as if making a mental catalog of everything he saw around him. The hair on Happy’s arms stood up as she took in his mannerisms; it was similar to the feeling she got when looking into a warped mirror. 

“If you didn’t know of us before, I suppose you do now. Do you want the job? Unless, of course, you enjoy travelling the track on foot instead.”

She glared at him; this smug jerk had some nerve. “It’s a gas.”

“You know, I never understood that phrase. It has no basis in anything logical.”

He looked at her intently as he spoke, as if the nature of slang was of vital importance. Happy quickly reevaluated her assessment of Walter, feeling her muscles lose a little of their tension. Definitely nuts, but probably not a murderer. Perhaps even the kind of nuts she could work with.

Well. It wasn’t as though she had anywhere else to go at the moment.

“Okay. Why not.”

“Excellent,” Walter said with a perfectly blank expression. “What supplies will you need?”

“A lot of nails,” she replied, without missing a beat.

He smirked. “That can be arranged.”


	2. a one line wonder in my own love song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Caroline for continuing to read my rough drafts, and thanks to you guys for giving this a chance :) More to come soon hopefully!

Happy could see when they arrived that Walter had a vision for his operation, even if the reality didn’t quite live up to it yet. The bare bones were there; a train equipped with animals and props, a big top, a smattering of people in costume and the makings of a crew. A couple of stocky men in clown makeup walked by, helping drive stakes into the ground to anchor the big top in place. The air was thick with the unmistakable smell of horses. Happy had never been part of a small company; they tended to invite more closeness than she wanted. But Walter seemed like the ambitious sort, so she had hope that his act would grow. 

As they passed the big top, Walter bent to adjust one of the stakes a fraction of an inch.

“It’s important to be sure that each stake sticks out at a consistent angle,” he huffed out in explanation. “The brain detects imperfections without knowing it. On some level, people would notice.”

“Well, if you want them all to be the same, you’re going to have to kick that one in a little,” Happy pointed out, gesturing with her foot. “It’s off by about fifteen degrees.”

Walter wrinkled his nose. “You can’t tell that just from one glance.”

“Yes, I can.”

He looked for another long moment, grumbled some more, and repositioned the stake. Happy looked up at the pointed top of the tent, allowing herself a satisfied smirk while his back was turned. The big top was striped black and red, a striking figure against the clear afternoon sky. And on the tent flap, a black scorpion silhouette was painted prominently. It could have been there to serve any number of purposes—to intimidate, maybe, or just to intrigue—and even though Happy knew it was a gimmick, curiosity still tingled at the back of her mind. She thought about asking what it meant when a voice interrupted her. 

“Walter!” 

Happy and Walter both turned to see a woman waving at them, leading a tall brown horse alongside her. The woman was short, but not as short as Happy, and dressed in a yellow spangled outfit that left her arms and legs bare.

“Well hot damn, little brother. You actually had luck this time.” she said once she drew close enough, her smile taking up her entire face. Walter scrunched up his forehead.

“Happy, this is my sister, Megan.”

Happy blinked. She would not have guessed that the two were in any way related; they barely even looked alike. 

“Yes, the second O’Brien Brother is a sister,” Megan said in the manner of someone who had explained the point a hundred times before. “He’d be nowhere without me.”

She elbowed Walter playfully in the ribs. Happy couldn’t help but grin; Megan’s energy was infectious.

“Happy is a knife wielder,” Walter explained by way of introduction.

“Among several other things,” she clarified.

“Excellent,” said Megan. “I’ve been telling Walter it’s time to bring in a few sideshow acts, but he’s been fighting me on it.” 

“For the sake of efficiency!” he protested. “If we only have the one tent, I can observe everything that happens at all times.”

“Observe or control?” Megan said, winking at Happy. “I know you too well, little brother. You’re going to have to relax your ringmaster mind just a little. But I’m proud of you for finally listening to me.”

They continued to bicker as they led Happy around. Walter kept the same sour lemon look the whole time while Megan flashed her dimpled smile. It was sweet, but it all gave Happy a bit of a headache. 

“Just to be clear,” she interjected, “I do get my own tent?”

Both siblings turned to blink at her. The silence lasted half a beat, until Megan started laughing.

“Of course you do,” she assured Happy, looking a little sheepish but mostly amused. “You’ll have as much quiet as you can get in the circus.”

* * *

 

Walter had a lot of input about Happy’s act at first, beginning with her attire.

“You look like a railroader,” he said disdainfully on the day of her first performance, looking at her utilitarian tan shirt and pants. Then, he’d suggested she spruce up her tent a little, maybe play up the “exotic” potential she could bring. People would eat it up. They’d pay double to see her act, he said.

Shortly thereafter Happy sent her knife flying, pinning Walter’s sleeve to one of her brightly painted targets. He didn’t have many notes for her after that.

Happy understood that Walter thought in big picture terms. He orchestrated things; that was his job. But she wouldn’t be dressed up and choreographed by him. That was what the monkeys and horses were there for. And it turned out that people were willing to part with the extra dime to enter her tent anyway. It wasn’t common to see a woman performing her sort of act; night after night of raucous laughter and sword-swallowing innuendo made it evident why that was. Happy hated the audiences more often than not, but they were a necessary evil of the trade she’d chosen. At least Cabe was there to keep people in line if needed, so Happy could turn her entire focus to her craft.

She kept it simple. Really, the steel spoke for itself. She could hit any target, anywhere, with any size of blade, blindfolded with an arm tied behind her back. Of all her skills this had been the most difficult to master, but people were always more enthralled by the other things. Lying on a bed of nails looked much more death-defying than it was, and yet this simple trick was what drew the crowds to her tent. And once they got there, they waited on the edge of their seats for her to draw a sword.

Happy could see how a layperson would be impressed by the sight of a sharp, heavy blade going down her throat. It took incredible control and strength; even with her lack of showmanship, it was something to see. Happy had a healthy respect for the steel, but she never felt afraid. Although her stunts took daring at times, they mostly took careful analysis of angles. She was aware, however, that no one else was interested in the reality behind her act. People didn’t come to the circus for geometry—they came for magic. 

Every now and then she would hear a little girl’s voice carry through a lull in the noise, shouting “I want to do that!” in awe. And Happy had to concede that some audiences might not be so bad.

* * *

 

Over time, Happy began to notice that Walter often made himself scarce between shows.

“Where does he go?” she asked Megan one morning, when no one had seen him since the day before. There wasn’t as much daily preparation needed for her act as some, so Happy often had time to visit Megan at the menagerie cars. After so many years on circus trains, the smell of manure didn’t faze either of them. But the midsummer heat didn’t help, and Happy looked forward to when the smell of popcorn and cotton candy would waft through.

“Searching for new acts,” Megan replied. “He finds out about the ghost shows and takes a look around. That’s how he met you, isn’t it?”

Happy supposed so. The conversation lapsed as Megan returned to her daily task of attending to the horses. They had people for all of it, of course—people to feed them, shovel their pens, and exercise them between performances—but Megan preferred to take an active part as well. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust other people alone with her horses. She just genuinely wanted to spend as much time with them as possible, even when she wasn’t performing with them. In the back of her mind Happy wondered if she would ever love anything, man or beast, as much as Megan loved those horses.

“Walt wants to add a human cannonball to the show,” Megan went on, rubbing her lead horse’s jet-black ears. “I told him you’d be perfect for it.”

“You told him _what?”_ Happy choked on her drink, sending backwashed water back into the paper cup. Megan didn’t bat an eye. 

“You would!” she said, beaming. “Look at the stunts you do every day. This act was made for you.”

A part of Happy wanted to explain to Megan that she wasn’t actually a daredevil, that every risk she took was calculated to the point that it wasn’t actually risky at all. Instead, she pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Just tell me Walter told you how ridiculous that idea is.”

“Oh no, I think he was considering it.” Her smile was of the sweet-but-devious variety that only Megan O’Brien could master.

“No,” said Happy flatly. “You should do it, if anyone. Doesn’t a human cannonball need to be…flashy?” 

“Not really. You’ll be wearing protective clothing.”

Happy took a deep breath. Behind her, one of the horses nudged her shoulder with his nose.

“Look, even Randy thinks you should do it,” Megan said, looking too delighted for Happy’s comfort.

“See if I ever sneak you a carrot again,” she grumbled to Randy as he snuffled the air. “You used to be my favorite.”

* * *

 

Several stops later, Walter came back to the train with Tobias M. Curtis in tow. He had a bag strapped to his back and a jaunty bowler hat on his head. Happy’s first thought was that he could use a shave.

“I’m Happy,” she said. She stuck her hand out to him, strictly out of a sense of obligation.

“Really? Not sure I believe you.”

“Clever,” she deadpanned. “No one’s ever thought of that one before.”

He just waggled his eyebrows and went to introduce himself to Megan, glancing back at Happy once as he went. Walter and Happy stood together, watching.

“What does he do?” Happy asked out the side of her mouth.

Walter sighed. “He’s got a sideshow act. Mind reading, fortune telling, that sort of thing.”

Happy raised a brow. “Hokum.”

“Of course,” Walter went on, “but he’s also been to medical school. I hate to admit it, but he’ll be a big help here.” 

Happy couldn’t fault Walter’s logic there. A doctor on the train was a luxury many shows didn’t have.

“You’ll probably be spending a considerable amount of time together, since he’ll set up his tent near you,” Walter went on. Happy couldn’t tell if he meant it as a warning or not, but Happy chose to take it as one.

Toby was attentive to everyone he met, but he kept sneaking more glances back at her. Happy wiped her face clean of any reaction, but he kept a knowing smirk on his face anyway. If he was trying to get under her skin, which Happy strongly suspected, he was already doing an excellent job. Even better than most strangers.

Her stomach jumped as Toby began sauntering back towards her.

“So,” he said. “The boss says we’ll be spending a lot of time in close proximity.”

“Not that close.”

Toby shrugged. His eyes were very round, Happy noticed, and their vivid hazel caught the sun so brightly that she had to blink. 

“Close enough,” he said, seeming unperturbed by her blank stare. “Close enough to get to know each other. I predict we’ll be joined at the hip before you know it.”

“Is that supposed to be endearing?” Happy gave him her most unimpressed frown, inwardly kicking herself. She’d known him two minutes and already her mask was getting harder to maintain.

Toby winked—actually winked—at her, before making his way back to Walter. Happy was left staring at his back, and watching her relative solitude slip right out of her grasp.


	3. well didn't i say i need you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to come after this one! Thanks so much for the lovely feedback last chapter, I hope you guys continue to enjoy. And I'm planning for this fic to be the first in a series, so there will be more circus AU to come later as well. I'm always looking for circus animal name suggestions??? Preferably names from the show, though. If anyone has ideas please feel free to share :)

All the panache Walter had initially wanted out of Happy, Toby ended up providing several times over. He portrayed himself as some sort of mystic, complete with dark, heavy draperies in his tent and a glass ball that he’d rigged to look cloudy with secrets. There were perhaps even fewer male fortune tellers than female sword-swallowers. It worked for Toby, though, because he attracted women in droves. Any fortune teller could say to a woman, “You will meet a handsome stranger.” But Toby could do so with a knowing wink and a subtle squeeze of their hands.

It all made Happy a little sick. Toby hadn’t been there long, but so far nothing about their interactions had done anything to change her initial impression of him. He was cocky, and annoying, and not nearly as clever as he thought he was.

“All he’s doing is selling lies and flattery,” she grumbled to Megan one morning over breakfast, after Toby had been part of the company for several weeks. “I don’t understand why Walter thinks we need him.”

“You do need me,” said a casual voice. Happy jumped out of her skin as Toby sat down next to her.

“And why are you always here?” she asked. “It’s a long train.”

“I’d say it’s because he’s secretly in love with you,” Megan offered helpfully. Happy scowled and blushed, to her chagrin. She looked up at Toby, hoping he was embarrassed too. But he winked at her, looking cool as a cucumber

“Oh, that’s no secret,” he said happily, with that little glint in his eye that never seemed to leave. Happy just growled at him.

* * *

 

He did prove himself useful on at least a few occasions. 

One occasion in particular found Happy dragging a bum foot across the grounds toward her tent. There were twin sideshow tents now, two red and black structures directly across from one another, and Happy hoped she wouldn’t see Toby there. But luck wasn’t on her side; there he was outside his tent, sitting in a folding chair and nonchalantly juggling three balls with his eyes shut. It made her at least a little happy to see his rhythm falter when he heard her limp over. The balls plopped to the ground, one bouncing off the back of Toby’s head as he called out to her.

“What happened?” 

“Damn horse stepped on my foot,” she grunted at him, still silently cursing Megan and all her horses.

Toby snorted, relaxing a little once he saw she wasn’t in real danger. “Come sit down, and let me take a look.”

“No.”

“Happy, come on. I know it hurts.”

She hesitated for another moment before shuffling in his direction. He jumped up from his chair and she sat down in it, sighing with the relief of finally having her weight off her foot. As he crouched in front of her, Toby’s entire demeanor changed; he quietly took off her boot and examined her bruised foot with practiced confidence. She winced and hissed from time to time as he turned her ankle, and each time he nodded shrewdly, as if taking mental notes. Happy remembered then (as if he’d ever let her forget for too long) that Toby had a medical education.

“Were you a good doctor?”

“I’m still a good doctor,” he replied, setting his mouth into a line but offering nothing further. Happy silently berated herself for even asking, and continued to watch him. 

It wasn’t that Toby was unattractive. Happy could admit that a certain type of person might find him…appealing. Especially at a moment like this, when the sunset was at that deep pink and orange stage and his curls caught the light. At this angle Happy could see the freckles that dotted his shoulders, disappearing under his shirt. She blinked away as he finished his inspection and looked up at her.

“You’re lucky. Nothing’s broken, but it’ll be swollen for a while. I wouldn’t try to get that boot back on.”

She frowned at this news. “Great.”

“Want me to carry you to your tent?” Toby offered, wiggling his eyebrows. “Cabe might be the strongman around here, but I bet I could sweep you off your feet.”

Happy didn’t dignify that with a response. Toby just grinned and waved at her as she shuffled away; she’d gotten halfway to her tent before it occurred to her to thank him. She turned around, mouth half-open with the words ready, only to see that he’d already disappeared.

* * *

 

Toby hadn’t expected to find a home with the O’Brien Brothers company. He’d taken his act on several trains before this one; as a doctor-turned-fortune-teller, typically he was a misfit among misfits. But the more time he spent there, he found that it gave him rest unlike any other place he’d known. It seemed as if he’d found his ‘people,’ so to speak. Megan was always a laugh, and Walter was too, simply because he didn’t actually seem to like Toby all that much. Sylvester’s eventual arrival brought a certain sense of kinship; a while later, Paige and Ralph deepened the family atmosphere.

Then, of course, there was Happy.

He snuck away to see her act whenever he could. Happy handled steel with the grace and skill he’d expect from a professional. He’d seen this type of act a hundred times before, but Happy always made it seem new. Toby liked to look around at her audience occasionally as she performed, watching people flinch and lean forward to see her better. As a doctor, it was particularly interesting for him to watch a sword-swallower at work. But after his first time watching her act, Toby began to overlook the athleticism of her throat and arms in favor of her eyes. The intense focus, letting everything else fall away in favor of the task at hand. She gave him a sinking feeling sometimes, as if there was someone looking over his shoulder to see all the cards he held. 

He resisted the urge for a long time, but one night he couldn’t stop himself from hanging around after her show was over.

“You know, it’s really cute that you can impress people with that nail bed.”

Happy froze at the sound of his voice. Clearly she had thought her tent was empty. 

“It’s cute that you think you know what you’re talking about,” she said without turning around.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s all about weight distribution. Simple physics.” The dirt was packed tight under his feet as he walked toward her. Happy was difficult to get a rise out of—he’d been trying for many months—but he hadn’t tried this tactic yet. At the mention of physics she whipped around to face him, her hair flying over her shoulder with the motion.

“Oh, you think you could do it?” 

“I could if you teach me.”

Happy stood there for a minute, considering him. Toby felt exposed under her gaze and wished he could take back his request. Surely now she could see every thought that had gone through his mind since the two of them had met. She would see his embarrassing awe of her, how desperately he wanted to spend time with her. He fought the instinct to run until his logical mind took over, reminding him that mind reading wasn’t actually a real skill.

Finally, Happy stepped aside and gestured toward her bed of nails.

“The trickiest part is getting on and off,” she grumbled. Toby tried not to look too triumphant as he approached the bed. 

“Whoa, cowboy. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Letting you teach me your ways.”

Happy’s eyes widened. “You’re nuts if you think you’re touching this. You weigh twice as much as I do.”

“I do not weigh _twice_ —“

“And,” she went on loudly, “I don’t want to be the one responsible for you getting sliced to ribbons.”

Toby pouted, partly in an attempt to make her laugh and partly from genuine disappointment. “But I wanted to do the nail bed.”

“Well, you can’t. Any other burning desires?”

He maintained his poker face despite the heat that washed over him, and considered it the greatest accomplishment of his life. Happy raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I know,” she said with a smirk that could mean nothing good. Before Toby knew it, she was pulling a serious-looking knife from her vest and backing him against the target.

“You can be my lovely assistant.”

Toby was beginning to get good at distinguishing her “playful” smirk from her “impending doom” smirk. This was the former.

“Just don’t move and you’ll be fine.”

He swallowed. There was a spring in Happy’s step as she went back to her platform. She moved the knife from hand to hand three times, tested the swing of her wrist twice, and before Toby knew it she had whipped her arm back and let the blade fly at him. He had wanted to keep his eyes open the whole time, but in the end he squeezed them shut. The shriek he let out at the point of impact was not something he was proud of, but given the fact that he could feel the wind off the knife’s trajectory, he figured it was justified.

It wasn’t until Happy came to retrieve her weapon that Toby realized he was panting as if he’d just run a race. She reached up to grab the hilt where it was buried in the wood, barely an inch from his neck. He gulped as she paused to appraise his face; her fingers touched his earlobe as they twitched on the knife.

“See?” she murmured. “Fine.”

They were breathtakingly close, so close that Toby could see the separation between her eyelashes. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, and the blue tracery of veins in her neck. If he closed his eyes he imagined he might smell the steel edges of her knives clinging to her. But there was nothing that could make him close his eyes now.

Happy wasn’t smiling anymore. The heat of her stare would have rooted Toby to the spot if he hadn’t already been trapped between her body and the wood target at his back. Her eyes lingered on his throat, and then his mouth, and Toby felt himself leaning downward—

“Everything all right in here?”

Happy sprang back and they each cursed under their breath; Toby’s knees shook as he turned to see Cabe in the tent flap. 

“Fine, Cabe,” Happy said through gritted teeth. 

“All right, kid. Just checking.” Cabe shut the flap behind him. Happy looked back at Toby, but his head was spinning and he knew the moment was over. 

“He just…he thinks he has to check on me all the time.”

“Right,” he muttered back. “Well. I guess it’s getting late.”

“I guess.” Happy stood to the side and Toby shuffled toward the flap. He pinched himself as he went; already the past hour or so was beginning to feel hazy, as if he’d imagined it. 

“Hey, Curtis.”

He turned around. Happy had moved to the center of the tent, so that her target was directly behind her. She wasn’t quite smiling, but there was a softness around her eyes that Toby had only ever seen in passing glimpses. Certainly never directed towards him.

“I wouldn’t _hate_ it if you dropped by here again sometime.”

He tipped his hat to her. “Good to know.”

* * *

  
There was a reason Happy tried never to enter Toby’s tent within an hour or so of show time. 

“What are you _burning_ in here?” Happy wrinkled her nose. The air was thick with it, at once cloying and stale, the smoke filling the whole tent so that Happy couldn’t quite tell where the source was. 

“Just accept the mystery, Happy. An open mind is part of the experience.” Toby’s smug face came into view as the smoke cleared. Happy exchanged a glance with Ralph. He looked skeptical, but then again he always did.

A hiss from the back of the tent startled Ralph, who tugged at Toby’s sleeve.

“That’s just Mark. He adds to the ambiance.” They all turned to look at the caged snake, just in time to see a forked tongue flicking out at them. 

“He’ll stay out of the way,” Toby reassured Ralph, “but don’t touch him. And if you ever find him out of his cage, find one of us right away.”

Ralph nodded solemnly, still staring at Mark in his cage. 

“So. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The kid wanted to check out what it is you do in here,” said Happy. 

Toby looked delighted. “You want to know my secrets, Ralphie-boy?”

Ralph nodded. Happy glanced up as well. Toby often joked about his “mind-reading” powers, but never had he indulged anyone’s curiosity before. 

“All right, let’s use Happy here as an example.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, Happy, give me your hand. I’m trying to bestow some knowledge here.”

Happy grumbled, but sat down on the rickety stool and reached her hand across the table. Toby rested it in his own, palm facing upward. His hand felt warm around hers, a little sweaty but not unpleasantly so. Immediately her heart started to race. The patched-together scrap velvet table covering was soft under her arm, though threadbare in other places. Happy noted the deck of tarot cards to her right.

“Now, pay attention.” Toby’s voice had gone soft and low. Ralph and Happy both leaned forward, for wildly different reasons.

“You’ve got your palm lines. If you’re going to sit in a tent and tell fortunes, you’ve at least got to know how to locate the life line, the heart line, and the fate line.” Toby dragged a finger along each of these on Happy’s palm. “Here’s a trick to keep people coming back—always tell them they have a long heart line. Especially if they’re young.”

Happy scoffed at this.

“But really,” Toby told Ralph, as if he hadn’t heard her, “while you’re babbling on about the lines on people’s palms, you’ve got to look at their hands.”

Toby turned his gaze from Ralph back to Happy. He’d been subtly turning her hand in his, under the guise of inspecting the lines of her palm.

“Remember as much as you can. Look for scars, callouses, cracked skin…anything that might tell you something about the person’s life. For instance—“

He broke off abruptly as his index finger ran over one of her scarred knuckles. Happy’s whole body tensed at his touch. She rarely thought about those scars; she’d made peace with the way she had gotten them, and figured that was all there was to it. But that didn’t mean she wanted Toby to make a spectacle of it, to drag it out of her and parade it in front of Ralph to be squinted at.

Toby cleared his throat.

“Well, Ralph, let’s just say a person’s hands can tell you a lot about what their life is like,” he said smoothly. “You don’t have to be a mind reader. You just have to pay attention.”

Ralph didn’t quite look convinced, but he nodded anyway. Happy, meanwhile, was finding herself reluctant to pull her hand back from Toby’s. His finger had found a slow rhythm to rub against her scar. It was comforting in a way Happy knew she should run from, but the tiniest part of her wanted more.

He was looking at her differently than usual. Happy mouthed  _thank you_ to him, and he gave a small nod.

“All right, Doc,” she said to him with a smirk for Ralph’s benefit, “your turn now. Let’s see that palm.”

But Toby stood up, putting on that signature cocky grin even as he shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh, no. It doesn’t work on me.”


	4. tried to move on but i can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are all amazing <3 Your kudos and comments fuel me, especially on a story like this. Thank you so much for being wonderful! And thank you Caroline once again for being an angel beta :)

Even with Walter’s strict policy against trysts on the train, Toby knew that just about everyone had done it at one time or another. Living in such close quarters made it hard to keep a spark from becoming a flame. He’d heard rumors that Walter himself had been involved with Janice the costume lady at one time, before Toby had arrived. And of course there was Megan and Sylvester, who were inseparable from practically the minute they met.

Happy got very cozy with one of their new hires, whom Toby considered an odd choice for her. They seemed to get along well, though, for all their differences. Toby would see them together more days than not; _he_ tended to always be in full costume and makeup, the white powder coating his mustache, and somehow he could get Happy laughing harder than Toby would have believed possible. Their _thing_ —whatever was between them—ended as quickly as it began, with no apparent rifts or hard feelings. Chet still smiled as he walked past her.

Toby, while arguably the most skilled flirt in their entire outfit, never got involved with anyone on the train. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t stay on top of the gossip. Luckily he had an ally on this front in Happy Quinn, who was just as nosy as he was.

She found him on a gorgeous spring afternoon, indulging in his people-watching habit, and hoisted herself up next to him on the edge of the train car; he smiled at her feet dangling high off the ground. He also couldn’t help but notice how close she sat to him. It had been happening more lately, subtle things that Toby doubted even Happy herself noticed. She always positioned herself in such a way that she could observe him going about his day, and she took more and more opportunities to talk to him. Now he wasn’t always the one to interrupt her meals for idle chitchat; sometimes it was the other way around.

Toby couldn’t deny that he enjoyed getting closer to her. He’d been angling for it since he’d joined this circus. It had been so long since he’d had a bond with anyone, one that was more than just small talk and jokes, and this thing with Happy was starting to take on a very different tone. The way she watched him and sought him out…Toby’s mind buzzed with possibility.

There was always the chance that their almost-kiss in her tent (which they had never spoken of again) was clouding his perception of her behavior. But Toby knew the signs, and he knew it wasn’t just wishful thinking; it really did seem like Happy was interested in him. The stirring in the pit of his stomach felt oddly like hope.

Happy hadn’t said a word since sitting down beside him. He cleared his throat to cover the silence.

“Look at the lovebirds.”

Toby indicated Sylvester and Megan, who were walking hand in hand toward the menagerie. Their match had also seemed odd to Toby at first. Sly was young, and Megan seemed to be the mother hen type. But it was soon clear that they saw each other on equal footing. Toby hoped the best for the two of them. From what he’d seen of romance, most of the time it started too fast or too slow, or for the wrong reasons, or without anticipating the punches life could throw. Toby himself hadn’t cracked the code of success yet, but he could still root for his friends to achieve what he couldn’t.

“She seems happy,” Happy replied, startling Toby a little. “It’s good.”

“Nice to see Sly go out on a limb for someone,” he agreed with a nod. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Don’t underestimate Sly,” said Happy, sharply enough that Toby had to hide a smile.

“Well, he’s young,” he mused. “And Megan’s…she’s Megan. They haven’t learned to be cynical.”

“I hope they never do.”

Happy’s soft words surprised him. She wasn’t looking at Sylvester and Megan anymore, but just staring off into space.

“Me too.” He reached over to take her hand, trying to tamp down the thrill that rose up in him when she curled her fingers around his. He turned her hand over and they both looked at the thin white scars crossing her knuckles.

“I, uh, I appreciate you staying quiet about these.”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing her hand. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

Happy looked over at him, holding his gaze for a long moment.

“They’re from a long time ago. A train I was on before this. Not everyone is as…nice as the people here. Sometimes you have to protect yourself.”

Toby didn’t need to ask any more. Her flat tone, the way she looked down at the ground and clenched her jaw a little, told him all that was important.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here now. You don’t have to worry about anything like that.”

“No,” she agreed. “Nothing like _that.”_

She was looking at him again, regarding him with curiosity and that softness Toby knew was always there but showed itself so rarely. There was something on the tip of her tongue, he could tell, as she leaned slowly toward him. She was so beautiful that Toby had no idea what to do with her.

With the amount of times he had tried his luck throughout his life, he had learned to be suspicious of anything good that came to him. Good things in his life were brief, and always followed by double the heartache. Every time. As he felt her sweaty palm and listened to the hitch in her breath, Toby couldn’t bear the idea of Happy Quinn becoming another one of his many false starts.

He eased his hand out of hers.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Happy,” he blurted out.

She blinked, leaning back abruptly. “You’re…what?”

“I think it’s the best thing. You know.” He watched her content expression twist into confusion and rage as he stammered. “That we’re just friends.”

Happy’s jaw was hanging slack. “Are you serious?”

“Happy, it’s just—“

“Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. Don’t talk to me again until you make up your mind, Doc,” she snapped, jumping down from the train car. Toby was left watching her stalk across the grounds, a little astonished at just how quickly things had gone to hell. But given his track record, he thought, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at all.

* * *

 

She didn’t think she had ever felt so stupid in her life.

“Should have known,” she muttered, kicking at rocks as she made her way away from the tracks. Sylvester waved to her as she passed, but Happy didn’t spare him a second look. She’d apologize to him later, after she had thoroughly tortured herself analyzing what had just happened.

Megan had told her it was obvious that Toby was crazy about her, and Happy hadn’t had the slightest doubt that she was right. So she’d allowed herself to indulge in thoughts of him, daydreams of how he would react when she finally got him in her arms. They had been nice daydreams; mostly because it seemed they would find their way into reality soon.

Happy let out a frustrated yell, gripping handfuls of her shirt collar as if to tear the fabric. She’d been about to _kiss_ him! She had _wanted_ to kiss him. And up until that last moment, she had been sure he’d wanted the same thing. She never would have done it if she hadn’t been totally confident that Toby would reciprocate.

Now she was the one knocked off her feet by rejection. The one outcome that she hadn’t planned for.

With a twist in her gut, it became clear to Happy that she’d broken the most important rule of a resourceful performer. It was the rule she had followed her whole life: attachments were stupid and only made things harder. But somehow, she’d done it anyway. In the end, she had not learned a thing.

* * *

 

  
The next few days passed quietly. Happy couldn’t say it was a peaceful quiet; she spent as much time as possible alone, away from the concerned eyes of Paige and Megan. Above all, she avoided Toby as completely as she could. Any time her tent was raised, she stayed inside and kept the flap closed in order to send her message.

Unfortunately, she seemed to be the only one who valued the concept of privacy.

“Happy.” Walter poked his head through the flap. “I need to speak to you.”

“Walter,” she countered, not looking at him as she placed her targets around the tent. They were due to open in two hours, which meant soon she would have a performance to occupy her thoughts. Happy couldn’t wait; her steel was the only thing she understood anymore. “This is not a good time.”

“Well, I don’t care. Clearly there is never going to be a good time, so it might as well be now.” He straightened his jacket as Happy finally turned to face him.

“What.”

“I thought I should inform you that we’ve acquired a cannon. So now we can start working on our human cannonball act.”

She paused for a beat. “Why would you need to inform me of that?”

“Because you’re still my ideal choice for this act,” he said brightly, as if she should be happy about this news. “No one else would be able to achieve the necessary trajectory for the launch. Your expertise in physics would be invaluable.”

Happy remained stubbornly quiet.

“Will you consider it?”

“If it gets you out of my tent, sure. I’ll think about it.”

Walter thanked her and left, his business concluded. Happy appreciated his way of getting straight to the point—unlike certain other men in their company who specialized in mixed signals.

 _He_ appeared in the flap of her tent moments later, as Happy should have expected. They hadn’t spoken since their little incident on the train, although not for Toby’s lack of trying. He did seem apologetic, but Happy was unmoved by his attempts to reach out. They changed nothing. She was still humiliated. She still knew nothing about him, while he walked around with information about her past that she never, ever talked about.

“So.” He had taken off his hat, and was tossing it from hand to hand. “I couldn’t help but overhear—“

“I think you could have helped it.”

He sighed. “I just wanted to say I think you’d be great, for what it’s worth.”

“I’m not shooting myself out of a cannon, Toby.”

“Is it the cannon that scares you, or the fact that you’d be under the big top with the giant audience? Not in your safe sideshow tent anymore—“

“Why do you think you know me?” Happy burst out. She thought she might explode if he said one more word. “Or better yet, why do you think your mind games will work on me?”

“Why do _you_ think I’m playing games?” he countered.

“Because everything about you is a game! Your whole life is manipulation. You just…you just open people up and make them trust you, and you never give anything back.”

“People?”

“Yes, people. I’m not talking about me, Doc. Don’t try to twist this.”

Toby stared at her for so long that Happy was tempted to start talking again. But she didn’t. She waited him out.

“You want to see my guard down, fine,” he finally said, in a clipped tone. “You’re right. I’m good at showing people what I want them to see. Maybe my life is about manipulation, but then maybe I want one thing that isn’t. Ever think about that? With you…I want things to be good. I want it all to be real.”

Happy stared at him, deadpan as she could manage. “So act like it.”

Toby opened his mouth as if to say something else, but evidently thought better of it; instead, he simply sighed and reached into his pocket to reveal a thick card, which he held out face down for her. Happy reached out on a reflex and took it, still scowling. Toby gave her a sheepish smile in return and left her alone.

The card was from Toby’s tarot deck. Happy knew this without looking at it. She stood there for a few more moments, collecting the shards of her hurt, before turning it over. On the card was an image of a young man standing on a cliff against a yellow background, with a small white dog at his feet. Happy raised an eyebrow at the words along the bottom: _THE FOOL._


	5. dreams help me find the words i haven't said

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so relieved to be able to say this fic is completed :) I have loved writing it, and there will be more stories to come! Thank you for reading and supporting; as always, I've appreciated hearing from you guys so much. Also I would obviously be nothing without Caroline, who put up with me through all the drafts of these chapters :) 
> 
> Love you all! Thank you for motivating me to see this through!

 

“I’m not trying on the costume.”

“The costume is part of the act.” Megan didn’t seem at all sympathetic to Happy’s plight. Not that Happy expected much sympathy from her anyway. 

“I’ll be covered in a flame-retardant suit. What does it matter what I have on underneath?”

“Walter said that when you land, you’ll unzip the suit,” said Sylvester helpfully. “To reveal you’re a girl and everything.”

“Figures,” Happy muttered, making her way to the costume car where Janice was waiting. After a fair amount of prodding and grumbling from both parties, Happy was dressed in red spangles, her arms and legs more exposed than she could ever remember.

She still couldn’t believe she had agreed to this at all. Walter had tried flattery to convince her; Toby had tried getting under her skin like a tick. Happy had thought herself immune to both tactics, and yet here she was, wearing a ridiculous outfit and preparing to launch out of a giant cannon in a few short days. Where was the Happy Quinn who couldn’t be swayed by the opinions of others? She barely recognized herself.

“Very nice,” said Megan when Happy shuffled into view. “See? You can be flashy.”

Sylvester gave an encouraging smile from where he was situated behind Megan, steadying her.

“Happy?”

“Yes, Sly?” She tugged at the costume doubtfully.

“You’re being awfully cooperative about this,” he said, sounding skeptical. Happy couldn’t blame him.

“Yeah, well, maybe the boss just wore me down. He’s been yammering about this stupid cannon trick for years.”

“Or,” Megan piped up, “maybe you wanted to be a team player and do something nice. Because you’re soft inside like a biscuit.”

“Shut up,” said Happy with a scowl. It wasn’t her best comeback, granted, and it did nothing to deter Megan’s giggling. Behind her, Sylvester’s smile had changed from encouraging to amused. Happy could tell he was trying to keep a laugh down.

“Shut up!” she yelled directly at Sylvester.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Your face said it all. I should have known not to talk to you people.”

“You love us,” Megan sang, reaching out to poke Happy’s arm. “Just admit it.”

Happy tugged at the spangles again, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. “I don’t want to think about it.”

* * *

  
She found him on the hillside, tossing his hat from hand to hand. His face came to life when he saw her, and Happy tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped at the sight of his smile. He hastily shoved his hat back onto his head and cleared his throat. But Happy didn’t give him the chance to speak first; she was there on specific business, she told herself. 

There was a card burning a hole in her pocket. And whatever it took, she was going to make him explain it. 

“What is this?” She held up The Fool and waved it in front of his face. Toby’s smile faded away.

“An apology.”

“Oh yeah? For what?” She flumped down beside him, wrapping her hands around her knees. 

He stared over at her. Happy fought the rising impulse to look away. She was untouchable, she reminded herself. She could handle anything. Especially Tobias M. Curtis and his yammering excuses.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since the day I laid eyes on you. And…and I was afraid to tell you because the people I love don’t turn out happy. Pardon the wordplay.”

 _So much for untouchable._ Happy’s stomach swooped and twisted itself into knots again; she hadn’t expected to hear anything close to this. Outwardly, all she did was blink. 

“Oh.”

“That’s why I told you we should just be friends,” said Toby, looking dejected. “I was an idiot.”

“I thought it was just because you didn’t want me,” she mumbled into her knees. Toby’s eyes widened to saucers, and he put his hand on her shoulder before he could think better of it. Happy flinched at first, but decided to allow it.

“Happy, no,” he said earnestly. “That wasn’t it at all. You’re the most beautiful person in the world. Do you believe me?”

“I want to,” she replied. And she did want to. But she had already risked trusting her gut once and look what had happened. Happy wasn’t one to take the same risk twice. Toby’s face fell a little, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his jacket. 

“I told myself I wouldn’t do anything gimmicky when I saw you, but…” He shrugged as he pulled out the rest of his tarot deck.

“You just couldn’t help yourself.”

Toby’s smirk was a tiny fraction of its usual wattage. “Pick a card, any card.”

Happy raised one slow eyebrow, keeping her eyes on his as she drew her card. It depicted a naked woman kneeling beside a pool. A giant yellow star dominated half the card, shining down from a light blue sky. 

“The Star.” He peered at it. “Was it upside down when you drew it?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He made a clucking sound. “That can mean discouragement. Lack of trust.”

“Oh, well, imagine that.”

His face fell a bit more. “I guess I walked into that one.”

“I guess you did. Now you pick one.” She watched him draw his own card and turn it over. 

“Reversed Wheel of Fortune,” he said, with a biting laugh. “That sounds about right.”

Happy looked at him. The lines of his face looked sharper than she’d perceived them before, the glint of the sun almost harsh in his eyes. When he started talking, she couldn’t help leaning forward. 

“I had a different life before I got into all this,” he said, gesturing around them at the trampled grass, the train cars, the chatter muffled by screeching birds and monkeys. “I worked at a hospital, I was going to get married. Everything was going as perfectly as it could go. But I couldn’t keep it together, and I lost it all. I gambled away my house, my job, my whole life. Needless to say I didn’t have a fiancé anymore.”

His voice sounded as steady as it ever had, even laughing a little at the mention of his former fiancé as if Happy was supposed to laugh along with him. Even now, he had a practiced charm about him. But Happy was starting to see how truly thin the veneer was. She had never seen him so quiet, so still as he looked off into the clouds.

Maybe, she allowed herself to think, Toby was even better at hiding the soft places than she was.

“So. Here you are,” she said eventually.

“Here I am.” He gave her a gentle smile. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Even though I’m still just as much of a screw-up as I ever was.”

Happy didn’t disagree with him. But she did let her fingers brush against his as she handed The Star back to him. They sat beside each other in silence for a while; Happy pulled blades of grass out of the ground and tried to think of something to say. 

She could have said _I don’t think you’re a screw-up. I think your jokes are funny even though I don’t laugh. And if your fiancé were here right now, I would deck her right in the jaw for hurting you_.

The words hurt as they stuck in her throat. In the end nothing came out but silence.

“Well,” Toby said wearily, “I should go. Thanks for listening, Happy.”

He got to his feet and walked away, the slope of his shoulders melting down. Happy sat there and watched with her mouth still half-open, frozen, stuck.  
  


* * *

 

 

Walter had a particular shtick that set him apart from other ringmasters. He wasn’t a natural showman, and it wasn’t a skill he found easy to learn, which meant that speaking in public was out of the question for him. So he followed the second most important rule of a resourceful performer; make a gimmick out of everything you can. Walter O’Brien, the silent ringmaster, directed his show with light and sound cues to layer the illusion of magic. 

It had quickly become apparent that the massive cannon simply would not work underneath the big top, so Walter had been forced to figure out a way to direct people out of the tent without a single word. In the end, he and Happy had rigged the tent itself to separate at the top and float down into heaps of canvas on either side, opening the audience up to the midday sun. She would probably be proud of the contraption later, once the whole ordeal was over. But Happy didn’t have to concentrate on any of that today. All she had to do was get into the cannon and wait.

“Now, remember,” said Ray as he helped her inside, somehow looking more serious with the bright red nose than he ever did without it. “Don’t flail when you get into the air. Just hold your arms in and your legs together.”

“I know,” she snapped, holding onto her frown even after slipping the helmet on so Ray could no longer see it. Her patience was reaching its last frayed edges. After meeting Toby on the hill she had gone back over their conversation in her mind a hundred times, aching for resolution but not sure how to find it. 

There wasn’t much time to dwell on it while huddled inside the cannon, though; the next thing Happy knew, the muffled explosion took hold of her body and she was flying.  
The blast shook her bones as she sailed through the air, leaving the smoke behind her. In the moment, there was no thinking. There was no weighing of outcomes or examining angles. Every thought that normally buzzed through her mind was burned away, until the only thing left was freedom.

Happy hadn’t realized how much fear and caution she had been carrying until, just for a moment, it was completely gone.

Landing was a brief disappointment. In the back of her mind she knew she was supposed to do something, like wave to the crowd. But all she did was unzip the bulky protective suit and gasp in a breath at the fresh air. The wind had been perfect for her launch, but Happy appreciated it even more for its touch on her bare skin. 

Now that she’d been the human cannonball once, she couldn’t wait to do it again and again. She had to hand it to Walter; as always, his vision had been spot on. This wasn’t the first time Happy had felt something like this: exhilarated, overwhelmed, brimming with power and energy. But this time, she didn’t want to feel it by herself. 

The first face that crossed her mind was his.  
  


* * *

 

 

The cannon blast shook the air just as Toby was closing the flap of his tent behind his last customer. He flinched at first, but then he pictured Happy soaring through the air and wished he was there to see it.

He couldn’t deny that a part of him had hoped for a different reaction from Happy on the hill. She had wanted his story, and he had given it to her—the important parts, anyway. But if there had ever been a time when Happy had wanted _him,_ it was clearly over now. Her silence had said it all.

Mark hissed at him from the corner, as if trying to taunt him. Toby didn’t even look in his direction. Sometimes he thought about finding something else to do with Mark—there had to be a snake charmer somewhere that could find him useful—but Toby liked to remind the snake exactly who held the keys to his cage. It was a sick satisfaction, which felt like the only kind he could get his hands on these days. Toby supposed it was better than nothing.

He was pondering a cutting remark to hurl at the snake when the flap of his tent opened and Happy barged inside, looking wild and out of breath. Her bright red costume was incandescent even in the low light.

“Wow,” was the first thing he could think to say as she approached. “You look—“ 

He had meant to say more, but the rest was lost in Happy’s mouth as she yanked him down to her. There was nothing tentative about her lips on his, her searching tongue and the half-muffled sounds from her throat. It all made Toby’s head spin. Almost before he knew it, he felt his hands skimming up her bare arms and shoulder blades. Eventually he settled one hand at the center of her back while swinging the other out to clear the clutter from his table.

Happy laughed as it all went crashing to the ground. She smelled like sweat and gunpowder. 

“Wait,” he panted on his next chance to breathe, “what changed your—“

“Had an epiphany,” she interrupted, hopping up to sit on the table and fixing him with a heated stare. “Can we talk about it later?”

Her hand was still gripping the front of his shirt. Toby looked at her, noting the shine of her eyes, her helmet-smashed hair. He could spend years staring at her, looking for new details each time. Toby got the feeling there would always be something about her that he hadn’t noticed before. 

That was the way he liked it. This was the circus after all; they both had to stay on their toes.

“Later,” he echoed as he crowded back into her space. “Later is good.”

 


End file.
